


Smith & Wesson

by Pineprin137



Series: AU Sickfics [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - It's a Terrible Life (Supernatural), Angst and Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Dean Smith/Sam Wesson, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt Dean Smith, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Nausea, Sick Character, Squick, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vomiting, Worried Sam Wesson, stomach flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27454606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: After six months together, Dean is pretty sure he couldn't be happier. Then, suddenly, with a baby on the way, everything changes.
Relationships: Dean Smith/Sam Wesson
Series: AU Sickfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826650
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, just so y'all know, I do not plan on making every one of my these AU fics into an angsty pregnancy fic. I don't know where this came from, but here it is.

Dean was in the middle of fixing his morning coffee when the scent of his freshly-brewed vanilla latte sent him sprinting for the bathroom. Lunging for the toilet, he gagged dryly over the bowl. 

After five minutes, nothing had come up so he shakily rose and crossed to the sink. Wetting his hand, he placed it on the back of his neck. He shook his head. 

He exited the bathroom after shutting off the light and headed back into the kitchen to finish preparing his coffee and grab his bag. 

He smiled when he checked his phone and saw the good morning text from his boyfriend. 

_ Have a good day, baby! Can’t wait to see you tonight xoxo _

If someone had told him five years ago that he- Dean Smith, Director of Sales and Marketing- would be dating a six-foot-five adonis who worked in Tech Support and dreamed of owning a sprawling house with at least three kids, he would have laughed in their face. 

Yet somehow, after six wonderful months of dating, Dean still got butterflies in his stomach whenever Sam Wesson smiled at him. 

Speaking of his stomach-- his brief nausea had thankfully abated, so Dean chalked it up to nerves. He had to present to the entire Marketing Department today, and while he was the king of cool while speaking on the phone to potential investors, he hated standing up in front of a room full of bored employees to tell them that the new system they had just learned was being replaced...again. 

Not to mention his bi-annual review with Mr. Adler this afternoon. 

Feeling his stomach start to sour, Dean took a calming breath through his nose. Everything was going to be fine, he told himself. 

He started up the car and turned on NPR to soothe his nerves on the drive to work. 

Thinking about the short commute he had compared to his boyfriend’s, Dean once again pondered the idea of asking Sam to move in with him. 

Whereas Dean had a sleek condo in the downtown area close to shopping, entertainment, and dining options, Sam lived in a small apartment on the outskirts of town--After a twenty-minute bike ride to the bus station, Sam transferred twice to get to the subway then, had to hurry to make it onto the train that would get him to work barely on time. 

Dean had stayed only once at Sam’s place, cursing the forty-five minutes of congested freeway traffic that usually took him about ten. 

Walking into the office, Dean greeted the new receptionist-- a perky girl named Laura, who liked to show off her cleavage as much as she enjoyed snapping her bubble gum. 

“Morning,” he said, nodding to her as he walked past. He shouldered the main door open then casually chatted with a few coworkers before finally entering his office.

While waiting on his computer to start up, Dean pulled the papers out of his briefcase and checked his calendar to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything important. Then, he went over his notes for the meeting and verified that he had his portfolio up-to-date for his review.

He worked on responding to emails and checking in with a few potential clients before he left for the Marketing meeting. 

“Now, I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but the Board has decided to scrap the NewWave system in favor of returning to the previous Gen Five.” Dean waited patiently for the expected groans and whispered complaints to die down before he continued. 

“I know it’s been a little while since we switched over, so if you guys have any issues or need a refresher, you can come to speak with Mike or myself.” 

As Dean glanced down at his notes, a wave of nausea crashed into him. He quickly turned his back to the conference room, so he could gather himself. After licking his lips, he picked up his coffee mug with a shaking hand. He didn’t really want to drink it but he didn’t have any water handy. 

It settled heavily in his stomach, but the urgency lessened. 

Turning back around, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, where was I...Oh, so, as I said earlier, we will resume using the five-point sales strategy starting today. As a quick closing note, please refer to the sheets I provided which details each of the five points, and how you can achieve them in order to close a sale.” 

“If there are no questions, you all are free to return to your desks. Thank you.” 

By lunchtime, Dean had visited the men’s room three times to almost-vomit. 

After his latest trip to the bathroom, he walked over to the sinks to splash some water on his face, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. 

He rarely got sick, and when he did, it was usually just a cold or a mild fever. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt sick to his stomach. 

When he got back to his office, he shed his suit jacket and collapsed on the small couch with yet another bottle of water. He was fairly sure he’d drunk more today than he had in the last week. 

“Knock, knock…” 

Dean opened his eyes to find a familiar head of dark, shaggy hair poked around the edge of the door. 

“Hey, babe.” He nodded at Sam before closing his eyes. He’d developed a headache and was starting to worry it might be the flu.

Sam frowned at the lackluster greeting and quickly stepped into Dean’s office. He walked over to the couch to sit down beside him. 

Sam set down the brown bag he was carrying on the table before he leaned over to kiss Dean’s cheek. 

“Are you okay?” 

Dean opened his mouth to say ‘No’, but what came out was a sick-sounding burp. “Sorry,” he mumbled, blushing. 

“Yeah--Okay, I think I’m just going to grab this in case you need it…” Sam said, walking over to retrieve the trash can beside Dean’s desk. He placed it on the floor beside them. 

“If you’re feeling sick, why don’t you go home, baby?” 

Dean leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder, sighing when the other man began petting his hair. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been feeling off all day but every time I think I’m gonna get sick, nothing happens.” 

“Aw, man… It’s probably that bug that’s been going around. Three of the guys downstairs have been out with it all week.” 

When Dean sat up and started swallowing convulsively, Sam moved the trash can closer to him. “It’s okay, baby-- If you need to get sick, go ahead.” 

Dean leaned forward, positioning himself over the can. He felt Sam’s hand on his back, rubbing small circles across his lower back. He retched loudly. 

Once…

Twice… 

_... _ still nothing _. _

“Ugh…” Dean moaned, leaning against Sam. His stomach still felt unsettled, and he still had his review with Mr. Adler in an hour. 

Sam turned his head to kiss Dean’s hair. “Good grief, honey… You sure you shouldn’t head home?” 

“I can’t,” Dean said, taking a sip from his water bottle, “I have my review with Adler in an hour.” 

“Can’t you ask him to reschedule? Say that you’re not feeling well?” 

Dean shrugged. “I guess I could, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.” 

Sam gave him a look. “You sure about that?” He glanced pointedly at the trash can Dean had been dry-heaving over just a few moments ago. 

Dean huffed. “If anything, I’ll probably just end up doing the same thing I’ve been doing all day.” 

“Alright… If you’re sure…” 

“I am. Now, shouldn’t  _ you _ be getting back to work?” Dean asked, looking at his watch. It was almost twelve-forty-five and Sam’s lunch was only half-an-hour long. 

“Pfft. Steve doesn’t care if I take a long lunch. I’ll be fine.” 

“Lucky you,” Dean snorted. “But how about you go back, so you don’t give me an ulcer?” 

“Fine,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll go. Just promise you’ll let me know if you start feeling worse? We can always reschedule.” 

After once again reassuring his boyfriend he was fine, Dean kissed Sam goodbye then gathered up his stuff to head into his review. He knew there would be a pretty drastic drop in recorded sales around the time they introduced the new -old- system, but overall, his performance was above average, and his commissions were within the required percentage. 

“Dean-- Come on in, have a seat!” the executive greeted Dean, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. 

Once Dean had taken a seat in the large armchair directly across from Mr. Adler, the two men exchanged a bit of friendly banter before they discussed how the director had been doing. 

“Well, Dean, I have to say, when we hired you a year ago, I had no idea you were going to be such a valuable asset to this company, but you proved me wrong! The sales strategy you came up with last quarter was brilliant!” 

“Thank you, sir,” Dean said politely. He was starting to feel queasy again. 

“What are you thanking me for! I should be thanking  _ you _ \-- Our sales team is ranked number three in the country thanks to you!” 

Dean was honestly shocked. “Wow, I- had no idea. That’s wonderful news, sir.” He swallowed thickly and offered a wan smile. “I don’t know what to say…” 

Mr. Adler grinned. “Say you don’t have any plans to leave us!” 

“Absolutely not,” Dean assured him, thinking about Sam and their possible future. 

“Excellent, that is what I love to hear!” Mr. Adler leaned forward, donning a serious expression. “Now then, let’s get down to brass tacks-- Shall we?” 

Twenty minutes later, Dean left Mr. Adler’s office with high praise and a fifteen-cent raise. 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had never been so happy to see his car sitting in the parking garage after a long day. After his meeting with Mr. Adler, Dean’s stomach had taken a turn, and he’d spent most of the afternoon racing back and forth between his office and the men’s room while his bowels mutinied. 

Sam had been kind enough to offer to drive him home.

Dean crawled into the passenger seat while his boyfriend adjusted the driver’s seat and mirrors then turned on the car. The drive was silent, other than Dean’s stomach sounding the alarm and his frantic panting. 

“Hang on, baby-- We’re almost there,” Sam said, worriedly glancing at his boyfriend. Dean had one of Sam’s hands in his lap, squeezing it tightly whenever he felt another cramp. 

Dean gritted his teeth. “How far?” 

“Two blocks-- Think you can make it?” 

Dean grimaced. “There’s no way...in Hell...I’m going to soil myself… in my car.” He squeezed Sam’s hand hard. “Hurry.” 

By the grace of a god Sam didn’t believe in, they made it. 

When Dean finally ventured out of the bathroom almost an hour later, he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of Sam’s tee-shirts. 

He cradled his sore belly during the walk over to the bed then crawled onto it so he could gingerly lay with his head down in Sam’s lap. 

The other man carded his fingers through his hair, asking, “Are you feeling any better?” 

“Ugh, no. It feels like a pit of snakes writhing around in there. Ugh, I’d take puking over this any day...” 

Sam chuckled softly. “Be careful what you wish for, honey. According to the people at work who’ve had it, you could be laid up for more than a week…” 

Dean blanched. “A whole week of this? ...Shoot me now.” 

“No can do, baby. But-- I will offer my services for as long as you need.” 

Dean closed his eyes. “I guess that would be alright,” he said, yawning. 


	3. Chapter 3

For two blissful weeks, Dean’s nausea disappeared-- Or perhaps he was just too busy being sick to notice? Not to mention, he’d had to nurse Sam back to health after he caught the same gastrointestinal bug. 

But come the third week after his review, it returned with a vengeance. 

  
  


_ “Excuse me--”  _ Dean mumbled, hurrying from the conference room in the middle of their monthly staff meeting. He slapped a hand over his mouth as soon as he made it into the hallway then ran for the nearest bathroom. 

Shouldering the first empty stall open, he crashed to his knees and clung to the bowl as the oatmeal he’d gotten for breakfast came back up in waves of pale vomit with bits of apple in it. 

Pulling off a length of toilet paper, he blew his nose and wiped his mouth off then stood before flushing and making his way over to the sink. 

He rinsed his mouth out with several handfuls of tepid tap water then washed his hands for good measure before heading back into the conference room. 

Dean was supposed to be meeting up with Sam for lunch at a new cafe around the block, but by eleven, he had his head buried in the trash can under his desk, so he texted and canceled. 

Though he no longer felt nauseous after throwing up, nothing he had at his desk sounded the least bit appealing, so he ventured into the breakroom to see what the vending machine had to offer. 

A few of his coworkers were in there, chatting while they ate their lunches. They nodded at Dean when he walked in. He looked over the selections, grimacing at the assortment of sugar-laden candy bars and spicy snacks until he found a package of crackers that he figured shouldn’t upset his stomach too much. 

While waiting for the crackers to fall so he could collect them from the bottom, one of the sales reps walked over to the microwave with a container of leftovers. The lid popped open and the aroma of baked salmon, roasted green beans, and sliced lemon quickly filled the room. 

Dean breathed heavily through his nose as he bent down to retrieve his crackers. He stood up too fast though, and he crashed into one of his co-workers. Her leftover spaghetti ended up on the front of his shirt. 

Dean gagged. 

Glancing desperately around the room, the smell of fresh lemon wafted by his nose, and he spun to throw up into the sink. 

Panting through a fresh wave of nausea, he twisted the knob to turn the faucet on, so he could rinse out the sink. 

A manicured hand appeared beside him holding out a paper towel, which Dean took gratefully. 

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem, honey,” Marie, the newest member of the sales team said. She set down a slightly smushed package of crackers on the counter. “Here-- I think you dropped these.” 

Dean quickly thanked her and gathered up his crackers, a blush heating his cheeks as his stomach continued to churn. It was completely mortifying-- knowing he’d just gotten sick in front of his coworkers. Now, all he wanted to do was get back to his desk and call Sam. 

  
  


Sam saw the blinking red light on his phone that meant he had an in-house call and immediately picked up. “Tech Support-- Sam Wesson speaking.” 

“I think maybe you were right about me coming in...” 

“Uh-oh. What happened?” he asked, leaning back to make sure no one was listening. 

“I threw up in the breakroom.” 

“Oh, honey bear...” 

“Sam, I-I think this might be more than the flu…” 

Sam snorted. “What gave you that idea-- I mean you’ve only been feeling sick for like...almost a month, now.” He sighed, twisting the phone cord around his finger. “Are you finally going to go to the doctor as I suggested?” 

“Actually, well, uh--” 

The trepidation in his boyfriend’s voice made Sam’s blood pressure rise. “Dean-- Honey? What is it?” 

“Sam, I…”

Sam leaned forward so all four legs of his chair were on the floor. “Dean, whatever it is-- we’ll get through it.” 

“No, it’s not--I just think it might be better to wait until we get home to talk about this…Shit. I shouldn’t have called.” 

“Don’t you dare hang up on me now, Dean-- Talk to me. What’s going on?” When he didn’t hear anything but Dean’s shaky breath on the other end of the line, Sam opened up his call window and hit the  _ Unavailable  _ option. 

“Dean? Are you there?” he asked, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could gather his stuff up and cram it into his messenger bag. 

“No--yeah, I’m-I’m here. I’m just… about to be sick.” 

“Shit--Okay, just hang on... Alright, I have to email Steve, and then, I’m coming up to you.” He hung up the phone so he could type out a rapid email with some bullshit about how he wasn’t feeling well and needed to leave early then hit send and shut down his computer terminal without waiting for a reply. 

The elevator ride up to Dean’s office was almost unbearable, Sam’s stomach in knots as he tried to figure out what his boyfriend didn’t want to tell him--  _ at work _ , he corrected himself.  _ Dean doesn’t want to tell me at work.  _

Once the doors opened, Sam nodded to the new receptionist and practically ran past the cubicles on the sales floor until he got to Dean’s office. Knocking, he waited until a raspy voice granted him entry then shut the door behind himself. 

Dean was sitting behind his desk, the trash can between his feet and a half-empty bottle of water in his hand. 

Sam rushed over to him after depositing his bag and jacket on the couch. He stood to the side, awkwardly bent over with one arm wrapped around his boyfriend. 

“Have you thrown up yet?” Sam asked, tucking an errant hair back behind Dean’s ear. 

The director shook his head before resting his arm on the edge of his desk and laying his head down. He took a small sip of water while Sam rubbed his back. 

“Just breathe, baby…” Sam coached, glancing around the room. Dean’s suit jacket was hung up in the small cabinet, his briefcase was on the chair to the left, there was an opened packet of peanut butter crackers on the corner of his desk with only half of one cracker missing… 

When he risked a look at the trash can, Sam almost wished he hadn’t, because Dean had apparently been sick in it at some point. 

Uh oh. Speaking of… 

“Shh, you’re okay-- Just relax, baby,” Sam said when Dean lifted the trash can up to his face. 

“That’s it, honey… Wanna rinse now?” 

Dean set the can back down after he was finished then reached for a tissue. He dabbed at his eyes and blew his nose before accepting the water bottle back from Sam. 

Taking a deep breath, he looked up at his boyfriend. 

“Sam, honey, I think I’m pregnant.” 

A myriad of emotions passed in Sam’s eyes: excitement, terror, joy, fear… 

“Babe? Did you hear me?” Dean asked, turning in his chair so he could reach for his boyfriend’s hand. 

“Yeah...I-” Sam pushed a hand through his hair. “--I think I’m happy?” 

A little worried by how pale the other man’s face was, Dean walked over to the couch with Sam and the bin. He set the trash can down to the side, in case he needed it suddenly, then gently smoothed his hand over Sam’s back. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I...You’re... _Wow_.” 

“I mean, I haven’t taken a test or anything, but I’ve been super tired lately, and that would explain my nausea. Not to mention how much I have to pee all the time...” Dean explained. 

“No--I mean, yes. That would definitely…” Sam trailed off.  _ “Pregnant…”  _

“Sam?” Dean asked, cradling his jaw. He stroked along Sam’s cheek with his thumb. “Babe? Are you with me?” 

Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes, staring dazedly at the far wall. “I should… get back to work…” 

Dean frowned. “I thought you took the rest of the day off?” 

“Oh, right. Uh, well, I should...go home, then. Don’t want anyone to uh, see me...here...when I’m supposed to be there…” Sam grabbed his bag and jacket. “I’ll uh, call you later…” he mumbled, giving Dean the briefest peck to his lips before he opened the door and left. 

Dean stared at the door in shock. He hadn’t been expecting Sam to be overjoyed by the news of a possible pregnancy, but he definitely hadn’t expected his boyfriend to just bail. 


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Dean peed on a little stick and found out he’s going to be a daddy. 

...two weeks since Sam walked out and didn’t call. 

“Ugh, stop already…” Dean groaned. He was once again kneeling on the bath mat, waiting for his unborn child to decide whether what he ate was acceptable... or not. 

Dean hunched over the bowl as the rest of the creamy chocolate shake he’d been craving all day came back up. 

“Oh, God,” he sputtered, reaching up to press the flush lever. He shakily rose and walked over to the sink. Before rinsing his mouth, he ducked his head. 

“I get it, okay? I shouldn’t have gotten the milkshake. Believe me, I won’t do it again,” Dean promised, cradling his still-upset stomach. 

After brushing his teeth, he walked back into the bedroom. 

Taking a seat on the edge of the mattress, he rubbed his hand over his belly as he checked his phone. No new notifications--same as every other time he’d looked. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Tech Support-- Sam Wesson speaking.” 

“Can I see you?” 

“...Dean…” 

“Sam, I really need to speak with you. And I know it’s rather unprofessional to use the company line to try to speak with my boyfriend, but I’m a little desperate since you won’t take any of my calls or reply to my texts…” 

“We’re at work, Dean.” 

“I know that. But I really need to talk to you-- Please?” 

Sam sighed. “I’ll have a fifteen-minute break in about five minutes. I’ll come up then.” 

He heard Dean’s sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

After hanging up, Sam rolled his chair over to Ian’s desk. 

Ian took one look at him and changed his phone availability to ‘away’. 

They walked into the break room together, Ian grabbing a few extra supplies from the cabinet while Sam choked down a cup of poorly-made coffee. 

“Did you finally call him?” Ian asked, taking a seat at one of the rickety tables. 

Sam shoved a hand through his hair. “No.” 

“Look, Sam, I know you’re scared, but you need to talk to him.” 

“I know, I just--” Sam blew out a breath. He fidgeted with his coffee cup. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all this…” 

Ian snorted. “Is anyone?” 

Sam smiled at him wryly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He checked his watch. “I said I’d go see him on my break, so I’d better go…” 

Ian nodded. “Let me know how it goes.” 

When Sam knocked quietly on Dean’s door a couple of minutes later, he couldn’t believe how anxious he felt. Two weeks ago, he would’ve knocked once then opened the door, but now, he waited for permission-- needed to hear the tone of Dean’s voice so he could prepare himself. 

“Come in,” Dean called out. 

Sam walked in and took a seat in front of Dean’s desk. 

Dean glanced away from his computer to mumble, “Hang on a sec, I just need to finish up this email.” 

Sam nodded. His gaze wandered around the office so he wouldn’t have to look at Dean. 

Everywhere he looked, there was a reminder of their relationship-- the picture of them on Dean’s desk, Sam’s favorite soda stocked in the mini-fridge, the blanket he bought Dean for his birthday artfully draped over the couch, and a few of Sam’s tattered paperbacks tucked into the bookcase for when he spent his breaks in Dean’s office.

“Sorry about that,” Dean said, finally. 

Sam shrugged. “It’s fine.” 

Dean’s face fell as he reached for the bottle of water on his desk and took a drink. He chewed on his bottom lip. “You said you would call…” 

Sam’s eyes drifted down to where Dean’s hand rested on his stomach, his thumb rubbing over his belly button. 

“Are you okay?” he blurted out, worried Dean might be feeling nauseous. 

Dean stared at him for a full minute before he answered. “It comes and goes.” 

Sam nodded. Feeling awkward, he asked, “Is everything okay?” 

Dean huffed. “Is everything okay? Seriously, Sam?” 

“Look, Dean, I--” 

“Two weeks, Sam. It’s been two weeks. You haven’t returned any of my calls, you’re avoiding me in the elevator… And now, you want to ask me if I’m okay?” 

Sam slumped forward in his chair, buried his hands in his hair. “I panicked, okay? You told me you were… and I panicked.” 

Dean shook his head. “You didn’t just panic, Sam. You left.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Sam said, lifting his teary eyes to Dean. ”I didn’t know what to say...or do...so I left. But I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Dean got up and walked over to the fridge to pull out a can of ginger ale. He popped the tab and took a small sip before he sat back down. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Sam, I really do, but…” He sighed. “...you walked out, Sam. I told you I might be pregnant, and you just left. I was scared, and I could’ve used your support, but instead, you turned your back, and you ran.” 

Sam’s voice took on a pleading tone. “Dean, baby, please. Let me make it up to you. Let me show you that I mean it when I say, I want this baby.” 

The words shocked Sam as much as they surprised Dean. 

Dean eyed him warily. “You’re sure? You really want to do this? Be with me and start a family?”

Sam got up and walked around the desk so he could kneel in front of his boyfriend. “Dean, I love you, and I love this baby,” he said, placing his hand on top of Dean’s on his stomach. 

“When you told me, I didn’t know what to think. I knew I wanted a family with you, but we’ve only been together for six months, and that scared me. But seeing you, today, I  _ know _ I want this. I want you, and I want to raise this baby with you.” 

Dean sniffled and grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk. “I want to believe you…” 

Sam smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “I’m going to prove it to you, baby. I promise.” 

Dean nodded hesitantly. “...Okay.” 

**Author's Note:**

> My 'plan' is to work on Demon Dean/Soulless Sam next, but if you have any suggestions or requests for pairings* from the show, please leave them in the comments! 
> 
> *Sam/Dean only, please.


End file.
